


helping hand

by fragileizy



Series: Sharks and Sugar [2]
Category: Miraculous Ladybug
Genre: AU miraculous swap, AdriNoire, Adrien Agreste Is Sunshine, Aged-Up Character(s), Established Relationship, F/M, First Time Blow Jobs, Kwami Swap, Lady Noire - Freeform, Loss of Virginity, Maribug, Marinette Dupain-Cheng | Ladybug has ADHD, Mister Bug, Post-Reveal Adrien Agreste | Chat Noir/Marinette Dupain-Cheng | Ladybug, The Author Regrets Nothing, Vaginal Fingering, adrienette - Freeform, miraculous swap, misuse of the miraculous
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-03-04
Updated: 2021-03-04
Packaged: 2021-03-17 22:02:42
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 13,647
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29848167
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fragileizy/pseuds/fragileizy
Summary: “Can I-- uh-- I have a question.”Her smile went too wide, as awkward on her face as she felt. “Sure. No problem. Definitely. Go on ahead. Say anything. Definitely will answer. Lord smite me now. Go on?”He pointed a finger to her bed, and she followed the black part of his suit all the way to where he pointed to behind the pillow. “Why is it under the body pillow?”She felt faint. “C-come again?”“Oh, I’m sure you can--”“--That doesn’t even work as a joke--”“--Why is there a vibrator behind a body pillow with my face on it?” Oh, he looked smug, didn’t he? If she had her hexleather ears, she was certain that they’d be flat against her head, but since she was unfortunately out of her suit, she had to just express herself by just staring at him with wide eyes instead, rooted to her spot in fear.
Relationships: Adrien Agreste | Chat Noir/Marinette Dupain-Cheng | Ladybug
Series: Sharks and Sugar [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2194407
Comments: 7
Kudos: 58





	helping hand

**Author's Note:**

> Sooooo. Here's the thingggg.
> 
> I've been sitting on this fic for about... uh... since Christmas. ish. I wrote this fic before actually writing the fic that this is based off of.  
> You could imagine my surprise when I woke up today and realized that, "Oh my god! Hey! There's a fic that I haven't published yet for the AU that I'm absolutely obsessed with and can't stop thinking about! I have something to post this week that I've had on the back burner for about two and a half whole months!"  
> So I cleaned it up and dusted off some inconsistencies, instead of doing anything remotely productive like do my homework on time. And here we are!
> 
> That being said, you don't really need to read the first fic in the series in order to understand what's happening. I've tried my best to make this a standalone fic so that we can focus on more important things (like comedy, for example. and orgasming. important things.)
> 
> The good news is: if you want more of this AU, you're in luck! This is from my Reverse Miraculous + Reverse Crush AU! There's about 88k more words to read on the original fic, which is linked here via the Series button.  
> The even better news is: there are three chapters on this fic in total. Come back here next week to read chapter two!
> 
> Please enjoy!

She struggled to put her plant on the small shelf without making it fall. It was precarious-- it was night time, and without her Noire powers, she couldn’t see that well in the dark no matter how many outdoor lights she put on her terrace. 

Shadows creeped easily into the dark corners, and into the spaces where she housed many of her plants on shelving racks against the far brick wall. She hoped that she wouldn’t have any casualties tonight, she was tired of buying terracotta pots just to have it smash into the ground because of her carelessness or just bad luck.

She felt bad for taking this long to actually place the plant where she wanted it. The entire week had been busy, helping out her parents in the bakery filling orders left and right, and she barely had anytime to breathe let alone do the chores in her room that she had thought of doing when she’d woken up earlier in the day.

Some of the chores were daily, like going through her long list of plants to water, making sure that everyone was healthy and happy enough to continue on the day. Others were weekly, like making sure that her miraculous was wiped down and shiny. She took care of her miraculous well, and she liked keeping Plagg’s miraculous looking as brand new as possible, even though the item was thousands of years old.

But this week had made things of the sort kinda maybe completely _impossible_ for her.

She was soaking the miraculous in cleaning solution in her bathroom, letting the silver metal get coated in soap before she attacked it with her cleaning toothbrush after placing her plant down.

The night was cool against her bare shoulders, and filtered easily through her cotton spaghetti strap shirt, alleviating her warm skin from the busy day. Her damp hair was already drying up warm at the back of her neck. She was lucky that she’d been able to wash her hair today, but she hadn’t been able to do much else. 

As grateful as she was that there wasn’t school during the summer, and that she didn’t have to worry about any homework, she liked being able to relax at her desk and pass notes across the table to Alya while they were in class, or bore holes into the back of Adrien’s head. Anything to sit down and do absolutely nothing.

She missed going to Adrien’s house and snoozing on his couch while watching him try to beat the latest video game, only to have her try when he got stuck. The summer always had too many people buying eateries from the bakery, and she hadn’t shown up at his house in such a long time. She was worried she wouldn’t remember how to go through the window without hurting herself.

She shifted all the pots on the shelf centimeters to the left, hopeful that the new plant’s circular base would allow her to put it on the shelf. She enjoyed collecting the succulents with large thick leaves for her terrace, it was a lot easier to take care of for her. 

Even with a meticulous calendar printed out and sticky taped to her wall by her desk, she often forgot about her plants at the top of her room, coming home after school or out late at night patrolling with Mister Bug, or even dropping by to annoy Adrien to death, only to find drooping and wilting plants.

Cactus were her best friend, but they were too prickly for her to handle outside of her suit. She kept the thorns on her terrace to a minimum, just in case they fell and smashed and she had to pick up the victim plant with her hands.

She eeped to herself when the shelf shifted precariously. She wished-- not for the first time tonight-- that Plagg was awake to help her. He always slept for a long while in her underwear drawer after the sun set, stating that he was conserving as much energy as possible so that her late Noire escapades wouldn’t drain his entire energy away.

Things would’ve been a lot easier for her if she could see in the dark as a civilian. Or had an extra set of hands.

She reached for the end of the shelf with her left hand, supporting the latest plant in her collection by the hip, hopeful that the default plastic pot would be alright with her squeezing her hip against the shelf so that it wouldn’t slide off and bounce to the floor. If she could just shift the plants over just a little more, surely her new plant could fit on the shelf...

“Need help?”

Marinette almost vaulted off the terrace entirely. She turned to look over her shoulder, clutching her new Baby Jade tight to her stomach so that it wouldn’t fall to the floor. “Oh-- oh my god-- why-- you _scared me--”_

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry--” Mister Bug’s laughter rang clear in her ears. His shoulders moved while he laughed, and he hid his smile behind a gloved hand. She had an urge to smack him in his pretty face, but laid it back, knowing that he’d block it easily with his hand. She wasn’t nearly as fast as he was when she was out of the suit. It was annoying. “It’s payback for all the times you do it.”

She pouted. “I didn’t hear you drop in. What are you out here for, handsome?”

“Oh, you know. Patrolling.” His voice went coy.

It was hard for her to see him correctly-- his long body covered part of the outdoor lamp she used to light the terrace. Instead, his body was backlit by the lamp, making his hair glow shades of gold. His suit, backlit as well by the light, looked like he was glowing completely from within. He looked almost otherworldly this way, bringing her back to the times where she was obsessed with him and couldn’t see him as anything other than an idle.

She squinted at him, trying to regain her breath, trying to makeout where his eyes were in the bright light. “I-- Jeez-- way to scare a girl!”

“No, I don’t doubt it that I scared you. I did it on purpose-- I noticed you looked like you were thinking too hard.”

She pouted. “Was not.”

“Oh really?” He deadpanned, smile showing on his lips despite him trying his best not to laugh again. “Your hearing is the best in the city. The only way you didn’t hear me is if you were thinking too hard. Which you do. A lot.”

“Bite me, Cherry boy.” She stuck her tongue out, tucking her newest plant closer to herself. 

He laughed, and brought his other hand closer to her, holding out a single flower. “How about instead I give you this? I brought you something, little Lady.”

Her eyes went wide at the rose. She reached for it tentatively, keeping one hand occupied by holding her Baby Jade by the bottom of the planter, mindful of whatever thorn could be on the stem of the rose. She turned the flower between her fingers, letting the petals face her. “You-- I--”

“You like it?”

She blushed, nodding her head hard enough for her neck to pop. “Oh my god, it’s _beautiful._ Where did you get it?”

“Ah. I can’t tell you that, it’s a secret that I’m going to keep.”

She pouted, looking at how the flower blossomed so lovingly red. It was almost the exact shade as Mister Bug’s suit, and just as vibrant. She hoped he hadn’t stole it from anywhere, but even still, warmth blossomed in her chest. “I’ve-- I’ve never gotten a rose before. You’re the first boy to get me flowers!”

“Really?” She looked back up to him, who looked just as surprised as her. “But, with all the plants in your room--”

“I guess everyone just expected me to have gotten flowers already, or something,” she took her time smelling the rose’s sweet scent. “This is so lovely. Thank you! You know red is such a good color on me.”

She winked for emphasis.

He leaned back against the wall with a laugh as she enjoyed herself twirling the rose in her hand. He watched her with those large, curious green eyes, his face unreadable under the mask. 

She hated how with just a thin layer of hexleather on his face, Adrien became almost impassive and indecipherable, locking her out of his thoughts. “What are you doing up here during the night, kitty?”

Oh. Right. It would be easier if she placed the rose down so that she could continue what she was doing… She turned her head back to the shelf, setting the flower on a nearby planter, reaching her left hand out again to push the plants to the left. “Help me out.”

“Arms too short?”

The body heat that pressed behind her made her shiver down to her toes, and she tilted her head back enough to hit the hard hexleather of his chestplate, staring at him in the eyes with a coy smile, draping herself against him like a damsel in distress. _“No._ I just need help putting my plant up on the shelf, oh Mister Hero of Paris. Think you can spare some time from your extremely busy patrolling schedule to help out a poor civilian girl?”

“Of course I do.” She couldn’t help herself from closing her eyes in happiness when he smoothed her bangs back and planted a kiss along her hairline. His laughter rang clear when she leaned even more into him, fulling putting all of her weight on him and sighing dramatically. “But I don’t think there’s enough space on there.”

“Don’t be silly! They can fit!”

“Hm. No. I don’t think so.”

“There’s about six centemeters of space, look,” She pointed to the small area left, enough to squeeze her potted plant. “I just can’t get it to fit in.”

Mister Bug made a noise of disapproval. “The plant pot you’re holding is absolutely bigger than six centemeters.”

She humphed. “Wrong.”

“I’m not wrong.”

“You’re totally wrong.”

“You know I have better depth perception than you.” He chuckled.

“Oh yeah? Can your depth perception do this?” She tried placing the Baby Jade into the spot to prove her point, nearly knocking over another plant in the process. Mister Bug’s hand shot out to grab the pot before it dropped. “Oops.”

“Can I say ‘I told you’ yet?”

“No, I’m sorry, I don’t take critiques. You know I have a weak heart.” She pouted again. “Just help me make more space?”

“Does it have to be on the same row?” He gestured to the second shelf that was completely barren, placing the pot in his hand back onto the shelf.

She shook her head, dejectedly. “But-- I-- I’d planned to have six plants on this row.”

She liked piling her plants as close as she could put them together. It made the shelves much more interesting to look at, in her opinion. 

She had never been a fan of minimalism-- okay, that was an understatement, she _hated_ bare walls and refused to let even a sliver of empty space in favor or sticking something on there-- so instead of minimalism she went for _eclectic,_ piling small gardening trinkets on the rack to make it look more interesting. 

There was always something to look at. And it kept her mind busy!

It was like her very own garden center, her terrace filled to the brim with flower planters and boxes of succulents and flowers that she tended and cared for with meticulous planning. And she _loved it._

She’d planned that the Baby Jade would look the best next to the sweet little Geranium she’d purchased months ago from the clearance section and nursed back to health. The petals were still a bit weak, but they were a lot stronger than when she’d first bought them. The contrast between the Baby Jade’s thick, juicy leaves and the Geranium’s pink flowers had made her heart sing when she’d drafted up the idea of it.

The succulent in her hand wasn’t even that big. A little baby she’d picked out in the clearance section of a flower shop after following her uncle to lunch earlier in the week before sales had picked up. Master Fu had asked to go out to lunch with the two of them, but Adrien hadn’t been available. That was okay. It’d been a long while since she’d hung out with her uncle, anyway. It’d been nice.

The green plastic pot it came with had reminded her of Adrien’s-- or Mister Bug’s, honestly, she wasn’t picky-- eyes, which was perfect in every single way. Master Fu had laughed when he caught her checking her wallet for enough money for it, and had decided to buy it for her as a present.

“Put her there on the second shelf for now, and I’ll buy you another planter for the plant tomorrow, if you’re interested.” She perked at the sudden idea, wondering if she could get him to paint it with her, since she couldn’t have the same color of green. Maybe a red instead would look better, maybe even with black spots all around to have a Mister Bug type of flare, maybe-- “Kitty? Earth to kitty?”

“Sounds perfect!” She placed the succulent on the second row, shaking her head clear of her thoughts like an etch a sketch. Plucking the rose back up from it’s resting place on the planter box, she turned to him, searching for where it was most likely that his eyes would be, but couldn’t tell through the backlighting of his body against the lamp. “Can I convince Mister Hero of Paris to come inside for a cup of tea? Hot chocolate? A croissant? Some milk? Orange juice? A quick snog under the moonlight?”

“What’s that last one?”

“Hot chocolate?” She giggled when he made an effort to physically roll his eyes. She didn’t have to actually be able to see those beautiful green irises of his to know that there was fondness written all over them.

“I’d love to come inside, Miss Civilian.” He let her grab his wrist, and she thumbed at the leather on top of the bone, finding the slight hexagonal groove pattern of the suit hypnotic and fun to stim with. 

She loved-- _loved, absolutely loved--_ petting him when he was suited up and she was a civilian. It was nice that he’d managed to keep his tactical feel in his hands through the suit-- something that Noire significantly lacked-- and enjoyed her touches as well.

She _loved_ touching the hexagons on his fingers. She loved holding hands with him, or pulling on one of his fingers for attention, or using her thumb to draw circles over his gloves. 

Granted, with her hand this small, it was usually the opposite-- Mister Bug’s thumb could easily pet the skin of the back of her hand with much more ease than she could. 

Any little touch, any little hand holding was enough to shoot shivers down her spine.

She was in _love._

She pulled on the gloved hand entwined with hers, leading him through the open trap door. She dropped through first, years of practice going up and down the ladder making it so that she didn’t have to look where she placed her feet or hands.

She let the canopy of vines against her wall shuffle and wave as she checked the leaves for any new sun damage, and moved the planters at the bottom of the ladder away from the floor to give Mister Bug some space to land. 

The mezzanine level of her room wasn’t as crowded with plants like her terrace was, but there were four large trailing vines the hung from the ceiling and surrounded the back wall of her bed like a green headboard. 

And while she could fit easily in the space since her head didn’t reach anywhere close to the ceiling, her dad could never make it through to her bed to help with vacuuming without a leaf or a stem hitting him in the face. 

Not to mention Adrien, who although is shorter than her dad by a good amount, sometimes was unfortunate enough to lean into a vine that had escaped from the wall, and usually screamed when he felt a leaf touch the back of his neck.

Scaredy cat.

But other than the vining plants hoisted onto hanging planters, there were only two other plants that sat by her bed. The nightstand had only a simple bamboo plant she’d gotten from her uncle Master Fu for the lunar new year, and she cultivated it regularly to twist into a lovely spiral.

She moved the two potted plants onto the nightstand for the time being, and slipped her new rose into a cup of water left on her nightstand. 

She debated on whether or not fixing the slightly wrinkled state of her covers on her bed to look presentable but decided against it, knowing that he wouldn’t mind-- because no matter how hard she tried to teach him that being _clean_ and _organized_ was _important,_ it was impossible to teach him the importance of an orderly room-- and instead just letting Mister Bug know that he could drop down.

He fell surprisingly silently given how he wasn’t designed to be, his boots hitting her rug with a dull thud. He reached for the trap door’s pulley string just by lifting himself to his toes, which-- _hello, wow, show off!--_ his long arm reaching easily to the ceiling. He batted at a leaf that curled up to the trapdoor, making sure that it didn’t get pinched while it closed.

“Are your parents home? I want to say hi.”

She shook her head, letting her hair spill over her shoulders. “They’re out right now, they went to go get groceries. Mom doesn’t like it when my dad goes alone, because he always buys the wrong onions. And forgets the cart. I mean, _I_ like the onions. Purple onions taste better. They have a bit more of a punch to them, don’t you agree?”

The trap door closed slowly, but she barely registered the creaking noise as she spun back to face him after looking at her assortment of stuffed animals on the bed. She eeped audibly, face heating. 

Oh. Oh no. It-- it was in plain sight-- she should’ve listened to Plagg-- oh god-- hopefully he couldn’t read her face as well as she was freaking out about-- 

She stepped in between his line of sight to the pillows, cocking her hips in a way to suggest that she wasn’t hiding anything, but a blush made its way across her face regardless. “Anyway! I’m glad you agree about my onion choice.”

He laughed. “I didn’t even respond yet--”

She waved her hands wide, trying to take up as much of his vision as possible. “Want something to eat? We can go into the kitchen, if you’d like? Hot chocolate? Hot chocolate? Hot chocolate? What do you think about hot chocolate?”

She couldn’t see his eyebrows from behind the domino mask, but judging by the way the hexleather pinched in the middle as he craned to look behind her, it wasn’t good. “Is-- hold on-- is that me?”

She eeped. “No.”

He laughed deep into his chest. “Oh no, don’t you try getting out of this one, I’d recognize my suit anywhere. Is-- wait-- oh my god-- a _body pillow?”_

She _squeaked,_ face heating to a thousand degrees. She shouldn’t have bought it. Why didn’t she ever listen to Plagg? He _said_ this would blow up in her face. 

She placed her hands on his torso, trying to focus on pushing him back, and not focus on how he was warm and _nice._ “Absolutely not. You’re seeing things. Let’s go eat something in the kitchen, you must be so hungry that you’re hallucinating! Hot chocolate?”

“Oh my god. The suit is completely accurate.” Mister Bug sucked a breath, leaning over her to peer over her head. Marinette couldn’t help but sag against his chest, forfeiting her miniscule chance of leaving the predicament unscathed. “How much did you pay for this?”

She sighed into his suit, “Okay, okay, okay.”

“Kitty.” Oh she _hated_ how he could sound so amused and miffed at the same time when she wasn’t even trying.

 _“Before_ I tell you, I want you to know that I got this before--”

“--No way--”

“--Yes. _Before--”_

He looked down at her, laughing while she forced herself to hit her forehead against his chest over and over. He took her shoulders into his hands, wrapping large palms easily across the space of her showing skin. “I can’t believe it. _Before_ we were dating?”

“Uh-- no, I--” Oh, she was _horrified_ now. “Before we. Before we started… uh.”

“What?”

“Before we started… you know… fooling around? Like, regularly.” She whined into his chest, wrapping her hands around his trim waist. She squeezed as hard as she could, knowing that he wouldn’t even feel it through the hardened hexleather. “Don’t judge me, _don’t_ you dare. I was _desperate_ for a cuddle, and I was going absolutely nuts not having it, but I didn’t want to bother you because I know that we’re always cuddling but I want _more and_ \--”

“--Breathe, kitty, you’re going to pass out if you keep talking--”

“--I know you used to practice kissing on a pillow so don’t even try me.”

He hummed out a laugh, at least appreciative of the design of the pillow showing to him. The winking Mister Bug was no doubt weird, she knew, but at least it wasn’t an offensive pose. It didn’t seem like the pillow was weirding him out all that much. 

The drool stains of her falling asleep hugging the pillow no doubt was a sign of _honor,_ not a sign of _embarrassment,_ and yet she couldn’t find the will to turn and look at the pillow. He laughed good humoredly, petting the back of her head affectionately, and she had to force herself to not start humming out a purr. “Fine, fine. I can’t deny that you’re one kinesthetic kitty.”

“Ooh, we’re doing alliterations now?” Hopefully she could change the subject.

“But, I will _only_ judge you if its double sided.” 

She sucked in a breath.

“Ah! I know how these things work, kitty, and your silence is proving to me that you are not only just a flirt but a _perv,_ too. Can you look at me in the eyes and tell me that if I pick up the pillow I won’t see a second design?”

“I--”

“Oh?”

“Wait.”

Marinette’s eyes went wide. Oh no. Oh no. Wait wait wait. There was-- the-- her-- oh no-- she hadn’t put _that_ away, either-- 

“Go on?” He was smirking! Oh no!

“Hold on. _Don’t--_ oh my god you’re hard to push back, wow, does the suit make you heavier? Jeez-- do _not_ pick up the pillow.”

“What, do I have only half of my suit on? Or--” Marinette eeped as his laughter died. He dropped the pillow like it burned him, body tensing under her elbow pressed against him to shove him back. She could feel his _abs._ Delicious, glorious _abs._ Focus! “Oh. _Oh.”_

She managed to push him just a smidge backwards, wondering if she could pinch her eyes shut hard enough the entire conversation wouldn’t have happened. She opened her eyes, and to her disappointment, she was still staring into her wall. 

She sagged against him, pressing her cheek up against his chestplate, wishing she could get swallowed up into a hole. “Ahhh. I’m so embarrassed.”

“I’m-- I’m so sorry.” He floundered hard, pulling back from her enough for her to see his face turning as red as the suit. His fingers flexed as he held her by the shoulders, his eyes stereotypically wide when he was being serious in his apologies. It didn’t take much for her to recognize the emotion on his face. “I didn’t-- I mean-- I-- the pillow--”

“It’s okay!” Her voice squeaked too high after letting the conversation marinate in the air. Her hands found their way to her face, and she covered her eyes with her fingers. “I-- I should’ve put it away. That’s not your fault!”

Nothing he’d ever done in his life was as embarrassing as this, and as much as she wanted to convince herself that him crying during a Tokyo Mew Mew episode was embarrassing…. this took the cake. No, not just the cake-- the whole _bakery._

An entire _flour mill._

The entire wedding cake market in the _world._

“I’m so sorry.”

“Hi, ‘I’m so sorry’, I’m ‘very embarrassed’.” She looked at him between her fingers, blushing hard enough to burn.

His laughter was a breath of fresh air as she continued to steam. 

He bit the inside of his cheek, pretty green eyes still finding humor in something-- _something--_ that was brewing in his head, and she couldn’t tell what it was. “Can I-- uh-- I have a question.”

Her smile went too wide, as awkward on her face as she felt. “Sure. No problem. Definitely. Go on ahead. Say anything. Definitely will answer. Lord smite me now. Go on?”

He pointed a finger to her bed, and she followed the black part of his suit all the way to where he pointed to behind the pillow. “Why is it under the body pillow?”

She felt faint. “C-come again?”

“Oh, I’m sure you can--”

“--That doesn’t even work as a joke--”

“--Why is there a _vibrator_ behind a body pillow with my face on it?” Oh he looked _smug,_ didn’t he? If she had her hexleather ears, she was certain that they’d be flat against her head, but since she was unfortunately out of her suit, she had to just express herself in just staring at him with wide eyes instead, rooted to her spot in fear. 

“I-- oh-- uh--”

“Yeah?”

“I-- uhm-- well--”

“What’s the matter, little kitty? Cat got your tongue?” He was _smirking._

She couldn’t help herself by scrunching her nose at him.

Could she move away to a different country? Would Master Fu be upset with her if she dropped her responsibilities to move to a different place? She could take Plagg with her, if the little kwami felt truly upset that she’d be leaving him behind. 

She knew her kwami well. Her little chef wouldn’t be able to handle the heartbreak of being away from her for too long-- not like Marinette herself was any better, but, anyway-- so it would be best if she brought him along. They could start a new society of keeping a new city safe. 

Paris didn’t _need_ two heroes to keep it safe, especially since the Ladybug miraculous would be staying in Paris. The cat miraculous, however, could make some strong bank in Berlin. 

Hm. 

She didn’t speak anything of German, so maybe it would be better if she went to somewhere that spoke English. 

London, then.

No. No! She wasn’t a coward! She’d fought akumas harder than this! Years of training to become a miraculous wielder didn’t accumulate for her to just cower away when Mister Bug finally bit back with a flirt, even if it was her fault for leaving something mortifying out in the open. Well. Not out in the open, but. Accessible.

For heaven’s sake, Adrien was just as embarrassing as she was! She’d seen him geek over Noire’s abilities, had seen the way he got flustered with her when she smiled at him wide while teasing him about it. 

She’d felt him fluster under her fingertips whenever she touched him-- _god his abs, his abs were just so well defined, it wasn’t fair how nice his abs looked, she was steaming just thinking about it--_ focus! 

She wouldn’t lose to him just because he was teasing her _back._

Maybe she should flirt back? Her brows pinched, suddenly, and she cocked her hip to the side. “No, my tongue’s still intact. Looks like your’s is, too, but I could give it a better use if you’re looking for something to do.”

Oh, wasn’t it pleasant, looking at his brain short circuit? Now _this_ was more familiar territory. His shoulders hitched just a smidge higher from their normal place, his green eyes wide behind the mask. His lips thinned as he tried to keep his smile from reaching his eyes, and he rubbed at the back of his hand with a thumb in embarrassment.

Ugh. _Ugh. Ughguhgugh._

She couldn’t take the innocence in his eyes. He could never handle her flirts. It was endearing, usually, but not right now when all she wanted was to get swallowed up by that hole. 

Hello? Universe? Marinette calling.

She could hear her mouth running before she could think of what to say. “I just misplaced it there, that’s all.”

She couldn’t read his expression. “Uh huh.”

“It has nothing to do with the body pillow.”

“Of-- c-course not.”

“Because that would be weird.”

He stretched his hands above his head, and she _didn’t_ follow the lines of his arms as her lips parted. Sugar honey iced tea. “Would it?”

“A-absolutely.” Was her mouth dry? Dry mouth? Why was she dry mouthing? Who let her dry mouth? 

And why were his arms so _good looking?_

Illegal. Imprisonment. Jail time. Criminal. Delinquent. Felon. Charged for such debauchery and sin!

“I don’t think it’s _that_ weird--”

She squeaked, barrelling over his words, suddenly remembering that she was trying to make a point. “--I’m _not_ still fanatically obsessed with my boyfriend’s superhero identity, because that would be _extremely_ weird, and I _don’t_ think about your arms and how strong you are and how I would love to be underneath them late at night and--”

“--I’m flattered, honestly.” He winked at her when she finally pulled away from looking at the toned muscles underneath polka dotted hexleather, and looked at him in the eyes.

Marinette blinked slowly. Maybe she didn’t hear that right. “What? You’re _flattered?”_

Mister Bug had the audacity to laugh. “Kitty, don’t be silly. I’ve always known that you liked me in the suit-- it’s not really a surprise-- and also you make no effort to hide it. You dedicated a whole wall in your room to pictures of me, once. Did you forget? Cause _I_ sure didn’t.”

She bit her tongue, trying not to correct him to pictures of _them,_ not just pictures of _him,_ because it would be useless. 

Everyone in Paris knew that there had been far more pictures of Mister Bug covering the wall than pictures of herself as Noire, before she’d torn down almost half of it in embarrassment when they’d told each others identities. 

“It wasn’t a _whole_ wall.”

“You were so excited to talk about it, too.” He continued, both of them knowing that she was lying. He winked again. Criminal! Felon! Villain! Antagonist with beautiful muscles! “You spent at least ten minutes talking to me about how much you found-- well, _me--_ amazing, and wonderful, and how you were dying for an autograph. I almost told you about my identity right then and there, when we were working on our field trip plans.”

She bit her tongue harder. “Doesn’t that just make it _worse?”_

“Make what worse?”

“Doesn’t that make me look _bad?”_ She pouted, “I’m a weirdo. I am infatuated with my boyfriend’s superhero identity.”

“I don’t think it’s that bad. I find it endearing.”

She groaned. “I’m miserable. My boyfriend finds me _endearing._ I don’t even know what’s worse. Embarrassing or endearing. Best of both worlds.”

He grinned at her as she hid behind her hands again. “I’d been wondering where the stars in your eyes had gone when you looked at me. Looks like it went to the pillow instead.”

She sat down on the bed, playing with the string of her shorts. “I’m going to die.”

“It’s not that bad.”

“My boyfriend found my sextoy and is trying to make me feel better about it in his weird little way.” The ceiling looked interesting from her spot while laying down to look at it. She should’ve put the toy away, god.

He had the audacity to _laugh._ “Don’t call me weird, kitty.”

“Weirdo. You’re such a weirdo.”

“Kitty, you are legally incapable of calling me weird right now.”

Who could blame her for having it out? She only had an hour to herself today. The shower hadn’t counted. It was easy to lose time in the shower given that her mind was full of scattered thoughts that pinged-and-ponged into different directions at the slight whisper of interest. 

Staying on task was always a struggle for her, and adding anything else into the mix of washing her hair would just ruin both of the tasks. 

How _did_ one fap in the shower, when there was a radio playing a song, and there was an eighty percent chance that the hot water wouldn’t last enough time to wash the conditioner out of her hair? She didn’t have that type of concentration skills.

Besides. _Besides._

Plagg was asleep-- or at least, he gave her _well_ amount of space when she decided to do it. He had free run of the house whenever he wanted to, and she’d been antsy. And it wasn’t like she could’ve asked Adrien for help.

They’d… never talked about _it_ before. _It._

The _it_ conversation.

She’d flirted with him on many occasions, _everyone_ knew that. _Way_ too many occasions, maybe, but it wasn’t as if he was complaining. She’s glad that they’re dating-- it was her absolute favorite thing to do now during an akuma and watch Mister Bug transform into a giant tomato while trying to focus. Any opportunity she got, she was worming her way to a flirt or a banter that made Adrien’s eyes roll with exasperation, his cheeks heat into tomato territory.

And it wasn’t just flirts, too.

She had definitely distracted him a _good_ number of times from his video games with surprise makeouts on his couch. She loved kissing him, loved getting those soft little noises out of him. What a responsive man! So vocal, too. A quick hand under his shirt while making out made him shiver and groan, pull her closer into her lap, and it was _so hot,_ it was so hot she could _die._

Hear that, Universe? She could _die?_ She was open and available to any and all forms of swallowed-up-by-a-hole. Any moment now. _Any_ moment now.

She loved the noises she could get out of him.

The universe gave her a hot boyfriend, and she was _never_ more grateful than when her claws made their way up his shirt to tease his abs. Hot abs. Such hot abs. So hot so hot so _hot._

Abs so hot she could combust. Cataclysm herself into tiny little pieces.

She’s grateful that her suit hides her face, when she tackles him onto his couch to snog and kiss and make out and get to know his tongue better. She’d be just as red as him during those moments if it wasn’t for the mask. 

But! But but but!

It was another thing entirely to talk about-- _eep--_ sex.

The _it._

They’d slept in the same bed multiple times before already, waking up plastered and tangled against each other like second skin. Adrien never minded how she enjoyed tangling their legs together to the point where it’s almost impossible to separate from one another. She’d fallen asleep with her nose plastered into his shoulder before. She’d nearly killed his arm before by falling asleep on top of it, when he’d wrap his hand around her. 

Intimacy was not a problem for them. Not in the slightest.

But they’d somehow forgotten that there was a second part of their relationship too, if they wanted there to be.

Okay. That was definitely a lie. 

She hadn’t forgotten. _At all._

How could she? Seriously, how _could she?_

She’d been well aware that it existed, and was always routinely aware that he could get hard simply from her kissing him, or waking up with his hips pressed against hers and it was _there-- it was right there--_ if she just shifted her hips just a little tiny eety beety teeny weeny bit, she’d feel it right on her _butt--_ but they never mentioned it, even as they kissed for hours and hours. 

Her thoughts about the subject were hashed out between her and her body pillow for later. And _boy,_ did she remember to mention it to the fabric version of her boyfriend. 

She just didn’t want to make him feel uncomfortable about it, so she always left it alone. Adrien never brought it up when it happened, so _she_ never brought it up either, and now here she was: looking up to the ceiling, ignoring the way the mattress dipped as he sat next to her, his hexleather gloves petting circles into the skin of her thigh. She tried not to shiver from the sympathetic touch.

“Okay, so maybe I’m not just flattered.”

She hummed to let him know she was listening, still _totally completely_ listening, not _at all_ falling apart from how embarrassed she was, still keeping her eyes trained on a specific spot of her ceiling. Maybe if she looked at it hard enough, she’d wake up and realize it was all a dream. 

Universe to Marinette. Universe to Marinette. Universe to Marinette.

Swallowed-up-by-hole-procedure any moment now.

 _Any_ moment now.

“I might be a little jealous, too.”

“Eh? Jealous?” Her voice didn’t squeak in the slightest.

“A little.” He confessed easily, his thumb dragging slow circles on the inside of her knee that was completely different than the speed of her thoughts zinging from place to place. Jealous? What was he jealous about? What was there to be jealous of? Was it because she _still,_ after almost a whole year of dating, still still _still_ had a soft spot for his superhero identity? Was it-- “I mean, you must’ve paid a lot for the pillow, I’m sure--”

Her eyes couldn’t roll hard enough. “--oh my god--”

“I’m going to guess forty euros?”

“Uh.” It was _seventy two,_ actually. She’d snuck in a deal with a table vendor when Adrien had dragged her to an anime convention she couldn’t even remember the name of, and while he was waiting in the bathroom line, she’d taken her shot by going into the artist alley. 

Plagg had told her not to cave in and buy the first Mister Bug merch-- he _said_ she’d regret it the moment he saw-- but she is nothing but weak for the superhero.

Besides. He’s her _boyfriend._ And Marinette is nothing if not supportive of her boyfriend. Even if it meant buying a body pillow to drool and do other things with. 

Supportive!

She’d taken one look at the art on an artist’s sample wall and knew she’d had to have it. It was completely worth it. Every single cent out of her little wallet. 

Even if the vendor had found the cosplaying genderbend what-have-you Ladybug she was dressed as a little bit too good to be just a random cosplay thrown together.

Adrien had begged her to make them costumes. Marinette had, of course, made the costumes. Adrien had been excited to have a tail, even if it wasn’t a magic one that moved like an actual extension of his body. She’d been excited to have her own functional yoyo to play with while they waited in line for things. Her and Adrien had taken turns showing each other cool tricks they could do with it, and she was amazed at all the complicated knots he could do without breaking a sweat.

She’d stuffed the pillowcase into her backpack instantly after the purchase, feeling every bit scandalized when Adrien had stepped out of the bathroom grinning at her, excited that she was still waiting in the same place. 

The pillow case had made her on edge the entire rest of the day, worried if the golden sunshine of her boyfriend would somehow recognize guilt on her face and tease her about it relentlessly.

“Well, I’m sure you’re getting your worth out of it. But I’m a little jealous of it.”

She supported her weight on her elbows, biting her tongue, trying to meet his eyes. “I can’t believe I’m asking this. Why are you jealous?”

“You could’ve just asked me, you know.”

“Eh?”

“Kitty. Come on. You can figure out what I’m saying,” He scrunched his nose, running a gloved hand into his messy hair. “You can use the real thing instead of a pillow.”

Oh. Oh. OH-- _oh._ Her jaw dropped. “I-- wh-- are you--”

He pinned her with his eyes, green eyes as shiny as Noire’s claws. “Right now, if you’d like.”

She could combust on the spot. “I’m-- I-- Oh my god.”

“Your parents aren’t home, so I figure, you know. You would want to.”

“I think I’m having a stroke.”

 _“Do_ you want to?” He continued to pet her knee. “You’ve told me just how stressful this week was for you, and I want to help you relax. I figure this could be a good way, right?”

She gaped at him. “My brain’s melting. I’m going into a coma. I think I’m losing my mind.”

He laughed good humoredly, his pretty green eyes disappearing behind hexleather. “Marinette, come on, don’t freak out.”

She lifted a weak hand. “Give me a second, I can’t feel my fingers. I think I’m dying. I’m seeing the light at the end of the tunnel, and it is _beautiful.”_

_“Kitty.”_

“You-- _you--_ look at me. Look at what you’re doing to me.” She pointed at herself with her floppy hand.

“You look _fine.”_ He quieted. “A little too fine, actually.”

She squealed.

“I’m dying. I’m _dead._ I’ve moved onto the _afterlife.”_ She whined into her palm. “Bastet? Hello? Come collect another black cat miraculous holder, it’s time for me to go. My boyfriend is asking me to use him. Help. Bastet, my only goddess, lend me your strength.”

He snorted out a laugh, “You are the most dramatic little kitty I’ve ever met, you know that, right?”

She pouted at him when he couldn’t stop shaking his shoulders in laughter. “We haven’t-- we’ve never done anything before-- and now you’re asking if I want to _use_ you like a--”

He held his hands up in defense. “Just so you know, we don’t _have_ to. I’m more than happy to just pretend this never happened, because I know it makes you squeamish. I just thought that it would make you more relaxed--”

Eh?

“What?” Marinette frowned, feeling like the rug was pulled out from underneath her. “What are you talking about? I don’t get _squeamish.”_

He shook his head as if he was disappointed in her. “Liar.”

“What! I’m not lying!”

“You pull away before anything happens.” He tilted his head to the side, face incorrigible under the domino mask. “Isn’t that because you’re shy?”

She squeaked, eyes widening and face turning red. “I-- I pull away-- _oh my god--_ I pull away because we’ve never talked about the stuff before. I didn’t want to make _you_ uncomfortable.”

He blinked slowly. “Oh.”

She fell back onto her mattress, hands on her face. “Oh my god.”

“I’m never uncomfortable with anything we do.”

“Oh my _god.”_

“I just thought you didn’t want to.”

“--Why are we bad at communicating?--”

“That’s why I was jealous of the pillow.”

“--Okay, I definitely think I died. I must’ve--”

“So is that a yes?”

Her head shot up. “You-- oh my god-- you were _serious?”_

He lifted a brow. “Of course I was. The offer hasn’t changed. Do you want to?”

She bit her tongue, hard enough to feel her teeth pinch and almost hurt. 

Well. Well well _well,_ universe. She hadn’t ever expected to be in _this_ situation. 

She knew that they’d eventually talk about it, and she was hopeful that it was in the near future, because by god and everything holy was she desperate for him, but she was alright with where they were for now. 

Pining over her boyfriend wasn’t the _weirdest_ thing in the world, she supposed. Her _entire life_ was weird, ever since her uncle had taught her the family secret. _Their_ lives were weird, ever since she’d wielded Plagg for the first time. This wasn’t that bad compared to other aspects of being superheroes.

She nodded her head. “Yes. Definitely. Absolutely. I would love to. Come closer so I don’t accidentally tackle you to the floor from how much I want to do this.”

He smiled. “You sure? You look red enough to match my suit.”

“To be honest, I’m debating on smothering you with your own fan merch.” She squinted her eyes at him. Maybe if she ducked and climbed onto his back somehow, she’d be able to get him. 

She’d never tried sparring with him as a civilian before and him in his suit. With the miraculous, it was possible that he could have enough strength to throw her blocks away. 

Hot.

Wait. _Wait._ She actually wanted to try that one day. Maybe during the next akuma.

But she’d just have to be smarter about it, if she didn’t want him to accidentally suplex her into the mattress. It would be fun, no doubt-- but given that they were in the middle of talking about _sex,_ she’d leave the thought on the backburner. 

She pouted, “I mean, what a way to go, am I right? Suffocated by an artist’s magnum opus? Being suffocated with the cloth version of yourself? Art replicates life and all that?”

He snorted, brushing his hair back with a hand. “Yeah, like you could even reach me from your height.”

“Bite me. I’ll just climb on you.” She squeaked when a beat of silence passed, and his lips curled. _“Don’t_ say what you’re going to say.”

Instead of saying a usual cheesy line that she would’ve come up with easily, Mister Bug instead placed his hands on her ankle closest to him. He took her slippers off delicately, and let them fall to the rug. Marinette couldn’t quite make her lungs breathe as usual, so instead she shivered under the slightly cold leather touching her skin. Her body warmed at his touch, a tight coil of heat washing over her and settling into her core.

She was _screwed._

So screwed! 

So royally, beautifully, screwed!

Mister Bug didn’t have much of a predatory nature in him when he was in the suit, unlike Noire. He didn’t have vices to keep in check-- like the want to capture anything fast moving-- or the low desire to bite. But the way he _looked at her_ as he continued to rub circles on her ankle...

In all honesty, maybe she owned the bat miraculous instead of the cat miraculous.

It was quite possible she was a mix of a vampire.

Noire’s instincts were amplified whenever she was around Adrien, and she always had to hold herself back from accidentally hurting him by using her claws. He was just so _cute_ and _soft looking_ and _wonderfully handsome_ that she wanted to crush him into a hug, and dig her claws into his arms, but she knew that’d injure him. Even if Adrien was a good head-and-a-half taller than her, with beautiful wonderful muscle definition that made her chest squeeze and underwear damp.

Mister Bug was no doubt stronger than she’d ever be. Even by training, even when wearing a super suit that made everything about her superhuman, she was no match for the Adonis that stood before her. 

She could see it in the formfitting suit that looked like second skin, the way his muscles moved against the long lines of his arms. He was _gorgeous._ She’d salivated over him for years on her own, growing up, fantasizing over the man who’d accidentally gotten the miraculous that was supposed to be hers.

And, yeah. Obviously Adrien was just as good looking-- _he had to be. Kind of the point of being the same person just wearing a different outfit, wasn’t it?--_ but it hadn’t been the _same_ for her. He’d been her classmate. And her best friend. 

She’d seen him cry over Sailor Moon, and Tokyo Mew Mew, and Mermaid Melody-- how could she ever feel consciously good about herself, knowing that she’d gotten off to thinking about Adrien and his hands when he tickled her when she was being too annoying?

Or about how he would massage the back of her neck when she showed up at his window, claiming that she was hurting from all the work she’d done?

Or about how he would let her catnap on him when she was hurting and tired from the whirlwind of a civilian life she had before they divulged their secret identities to each other? Adrien wasn’t Mister Bug, at least, not when she used to show up at his house. He’d been her classmate. And everyone knew that Noire was helplessly in love with her superhero partner.

Well, it wouldn’t have been the worst if she’d thought of her classmate’s warm chest and arms on her-- _oh god-- wait-- maybe she was just a pervert and had had a stupid crush on Adrien too, back then, always chalking it up to fantasies of what she’d do if it was Mister Bug instead._

Sugar honey ice tea!

Part of the reason why she’d bought the pillowcase in the first place was just how accurate the suit on the drawing was. The artwork helped a lot, of course, and it made her cheeks heat whenever she looked at it. Mister Bug’s smile always made her heart-- and knees-- weak. She couldn’t help herself. But the fact that the suit looked so believable and exact from the actual design made her heart sing and zing and do back flips and front flips and scream.

The pillowcase was made for her.

She was so glad for its service, bringing herself back to attention to real life actual superhero and boyfriend of hers, taking deep breaths to not accidentally suffocate herself in a panic looking at him.

Mister Bug was calm with her in the way that Noire would never be able to reciprocate for him. His gloves traced random circles and other shapes into her calves, his eyes moving slowly against her body as if he was picking her apart. Regardless of his lack of instinctual behavior, no prey to catch and latch onto, she felt rooted to the spot, feeling as if she’d been caught by a lion.

A beautiful red lion with golden hair and green eyes and the most beautiful smile and--

Marinette gasped as a thought zinged in her head. “Oh-- wait-- I don’t have a condom.”

His eyes snapped to hers, the green in his eyes starting to disappear. He smiled cheekily, somehow warm and comforting, nosing the skin of her ankle. “I wouldn’t be able to wear it anyway, if you did. Our suits don’t come off, remember? I guess I’m just going to have to use my hands tonight.”

Well, wasn’t _she_ an idiot? 

She decided against saying anything, knowing that she’d run her mouth the entire time if she so much as breathed in, and opting instead for sighing behind a fist as he dropped his head to kiss her calf. He sweetened her up easily against his gentle touches, pressing soft kisses against her skin. If the roles had been reversed, she knew that she’d be biting him hard enough to leave marks all over.

Oh god. She wanted to do that so badly.

Something familiar buzzed in between her legs, and she reached down to the waistband of her shorts to pull it down with a smile. “Help me take these off, Bugaboy?”

He didn’t have to reach far from his spot on the mattress to reach her waistband. He hooked his pointer fingers on her thin shorts, and with an easy smile he kissed the inside of the closest knee to him while he pulled the shorts down. 

Marinette’s face was hot enough to catch fire, worrying her tongue between her teeth. She knew that she was a whirlwind of impulsivity, and she often went through things without thinking them through. Her impulses were only amplified when in the suit, so it was hard for her to stop and slow down.

Adrien though, even as Mister Bug, never faltered when she was manic. Always a steady rock that easily grounded her, but regularly indulged her in her spontaneous conversations topics. Her head could be running kilometers per second-- like now, like _right now--_ and he’d still be there, parsing through the conversation, trying to make sense of it.

A horrible thing, really. No wonder her heart had been so easily captured by the golden sunshine of a man.

She’d die for him.

It wasn’t a reach for her to believe that he was going slow and thoughtful because of her. Even though he was careful and thoughtful in his actions, methodical during akuma fights and ever patient with her, Marinette was certain that he was going extra slow because he wanted her to be happy with whatever he was planning.

She blanched at her underwear choice as it came into view. Even though she was an adult now, and could buy whatever underwear she wanted, she still had never gotten around to it. She was always busy in some form or the other, and always found that making her own clothes was more fun than going out and shopping for anything new. Besides, her underwear still fit, so it wasn’t as if she was in desperate need of new ones.

But maybe she should’ve taken Alya up on the idea of getting some things, after they’d gossiped and shared stories. 

Boys liked pretty clothes. _She_ deserved pretty clothes. Adrien deserved to see her in pretty clothes.

How was she supposed to know that he was going to see them? It wasn’t the most attractive looking underwear. Goodness, the cut was even a standard hipster-- the most boring and plain style she possibly could’ve chosen to wear. 

But she _liked_ the mint green color, and the small little bow at the top of the waistline. It wasn’t ugly, per se, but it wasn’t anything pretty enough to make her look nice. It was plain and average at best.

Uninspiring could be another word for it.

She’d just picked out the first underwear she reached for in her organized drawers. She was feeling the color green after showering, which is why she picked it out.

He’d seen much prettier colors and cuts in his lifetime, she was certain of it. Hell, even the Agreste brand had some form of underwear lineup that she’d taken a peek-- a _peek-- a small little tiny peek!--_ of in a magazine and had thrown it across the room once she recognized it was her boyfriend in the photos, immediately digging out the pillow case to shove her body pillow onto to have a stern and ‘buzzing’ conversation with him about it. Ha.

She definitely had to remember that one for the next time. 

Her soft and overwashed underwear wasn’t anything to be impressed by.

“Stop thinking, kitty.” He laughed as he dropped her shorts somewhere behind him. “I can hear your brain going fast enough to combust. Just relax.”

“Okay, don’t blame me-- seriously, it’s in my nature to think a lot-- it’s like telling me not to breathe.”

“Uh huh.”

“I just didn’t think we’d be doing this, like, today.” She hid her mouth behind the back of her hand, letting her hair fall back behind her shoulder. “I feel like I should’ve dressed up, or something.”

He smiled at her, his domino mask crinkling at the sides. “You don’t need to dress up. I think you would’ve looked cute, but I like you like this.”

She blushed. “But--”

“Ah, no, you’re thinking too much still. Stop it.”

“But I--”

“I mean it. I think all your clothes are adorable.”

“It would’ve been nice if I had nicer…” She blushed harder. “Stuff. Right?”

“Are you embarrassed with what you’re wearing?” He was completely unreadable, resting his chin up against one of her knees. Why was he looking at her like this? Why was it so difficult for her to read him whenever he put on the suit?

“A-a _little._ I’ve been thinking about this for years. I j-just wanted it to be nicer for you.” She confessed, shivering at the large palms grazing the skin of her thighs, passing the band of her underwear, and dipping under her tanktop. Her chest rose tall when his hands reached up to cup her over her trusty pink bralette-- nearly as old as her panties, but still one of her favorites-- his thumbs dipping into the space between her breasts.

“Years, huh?” He hummed, giving her the impression that he was half-tuning her out to instead focus all of his attention to cupping and feeling her through the thin bra. But she knew better than that-- _she_ was the one who couldn’t keep one train of thought without jumping to the next. “You think _this_ isn’t nice enough for me?”

She groaned as he wiggled his fingers under the bralette, the hexagonal pattern of his suit making the sensitive skin of her chest shiver. He tweaked her skin with small pinches of his thumb and forefinger, making her toes curl as she mewled. “Just… a little.”

“I have a lot to make up to you, apparently, if you think I don’t find this to be the nicest thing I’ve seen.” He kneeled in between her open thighs, and shifted her hips to face him better. “God. _Definitely_ the nicest thing I’ve seen.”

Marinette blushed hard enough to feel it stain her skin permanently. Marinette was now Red-inette. Great.

He dropped his head to kiss her, quick and soft enough to make her sigh. She could feel the strain in his shoulders to go slow, unraveling her in the same way that he did whenever she got him gifts. It always drove her nuts with the slowness of how he pulled on any tape she’d placed on the gift bag, claiming he didn’t want to ruin the wrapping paper. 

He was taking his time to the extreme.

God how she wanted to make him go faster!

She couldn’t stop moving her hands along his shoulders and the hardened hexleather just above his biceps, and he laughed as she nipped at his bottom lip. “It’s a shame I didn’t bring your mouth guard with me.”

“Okay, okay, I’ll try not to bite-- I promise-- I just can’t help myself.” She nodded against his skin, mouthing at his jaw instead. At best, the miraculous side effects were just inconvenient. She always wanted to cuddle. Alya and Adrien got the brunt of her cuddly nature, and she was always holding and petting people’s hands. Hell, even Nathaniel had succumbed to her constant prodding, letting her play with his hair and the bracelets on his wrists.

But at the worst of it, the side effects were _crippling._ She wanted to bite everything. Adrien had learned quickly to get her mouth guards made out of squishy silicon so that she wouldn’t tear into anything with her teeth when she used to drop by at his house before they were dating. It was the way she expressed endearment. And, _boy,_ did she endear Adrien.

She endeared him so _hard._ Ha.

“Actually, I have an idea,” Mister Bug chuckled to himself as he pulled away from her kisses. She whined in complaint, but quickly shut up when his thumb found its way between her lips. “Bite?”

Marinette’s eyes widened down to the black hexleather thumb in her mouth, then back up to his smiling eyes. _“Sherioushly?”_

He nodded. “Bite?”

She bit down softly on his finger, watching for any reaction of pain. “Ahm--”

“Bite harder, kitty, it’s okay.” His boyish smile widened at her hestiance. “The suit doesn’t even let your claws through, I’m sure it’ll be fine if you use your teeth.”

No way. No way no way no way no way no _way._

She bit down a little harder. He looked like he couldn’t feel it at all, which was _very_ dangerous, because that gave her an excuse to bite down completely without any regard to pain. And by _god_ did she want to.

His eyes moved back to her underwear. It was tricky for him to do anything with only one hand, using the other to keep her preoccupied, but Mister Bug was nothing if not flexible and open to creativity. He used the tips of his two fingers to draw down a line on her underwear, stopping exactly where the dampness was the most concentrated. She whined around his thumb, curling her toes as he teased her through her panties.

She gasped when he pulled the fabric to the side just slightly, enough to easily guide a finger into her. She winced inwardly at how simple and fluid his finger sinked in, how desperate she was for him that he hadn’t needed to do anything and he could slip in like it was nothing. _Whoops._

The hexagonal grooves of his gloves felt like nothing she’d ever imagined, and she caught herself mewling as he shifted his finger for it to curl up.

“You’re so warm,” His eyebrows lifted behind the mask, watching his finger disappear into her. “How are you so warm?”

She bit down on his thumb still in her mouth, surely hard enough to hurt. Instead, her jaw ached when the finger didn’t budge in the slightest, and she burned through her embarrassment. 

She squeaked when his pointer finger inside her curled again, her head dropping onto the mattress. She grabbed for his hand next to her mouth with both of her hands to keep her occupied, letting her heated cheek rest up against his palm.

He carded his fingers through her hair as he continued to stroke and pet her, soothing her like a frightened animal. She sighed, completely devoid of strength in her body for once in her life. She was putty between the finger that curled and slicked in her, and the palm the caressed her face lovingly. Her lips parted to press pillowy kisses into the flesh of his palm, and she mouthed at the area she left bare.

She whined when he pulled his hand away from her so that he could get her shirt off, and her face blistered red when his pointer finger came out of her completely with a wet noise. 

Oh! Embarrassing!

He grabbed her tanktop by the bottom hem with his two hands, and pulled swiftly over her head, leaving her body bare except with the thin bralette and panties.

She couldn’t think of anything else except wanting those fingers back in her, which was truly a first for her. Her? Not being able to think of anything except one thing? Mister Bug had a way with her that no one ever did. Literally and figuratively wrapped around his finger.

“You’re so beautiful, Marinette,” His voice filled something low in her. _“So_ beautiful. So pretty.”

She whined.

She wanted to touch him everywhere. Everywhere she could possibly touch. 

She wanted to place her hands on his chestplate, wanted to tease the slim lines of his abs. Abs. Abs abs abs. All of them-- she wanted to so _badly_ that it _hurt._

His suit was warm against the heated touches she’d put on his shoulders and biceps, but she wanted to know if he was warm at the hipbone, or on his back, or the stiff line that pulsed at the inside of his thigh.

Oh, _universe._ Marinette was _very_ thankful for the present that they gave her.

That contour of that line on his thigh, oh, _dear lord._

He kissed her collarbone, the slow slope of her chest, her freckled shoulders-- anything he could reach-- as if he had the same idea too. Each time he kissed up to the bottom of her jaw, she couldn’t help the want that curled and solidified between her legs, heavy and wanting, and it was near impossible to stop herself from wiggling her toes in excitement. She lifted her hips to move her leg from underneath him, and he caught the back of her thigh with a firm hand.

“Come on, Bugga,” She pouted. “I want to feel you, too.”

“Maybe. We’re more focused on you right now.”

With a coy smile, he peeled the band of her panties down. She helped him get it off one of her legs, and he let her do the rest of the work for the second leg. The underwear hung from her ankle, and her toes flexed when he came down to bite and nip at her mouth, sliding his tongue against hers.

Oh, she _loved_ kissing this man. Even now, almost completely naked, he sighed into her mouth like she was unraveling _him._

Two fingers prodded at her wet entrance, teasing, attempting to slide in without too much pressure.

She whined when he never pressed in, peeling her mouth away from his slanted lips to complain. “Are you going to--”

He smiled, face unreadable behind the mask. “Only if you do me a favor.”

“Wha-- _now?_ Are you kidding me?” She had to bite back a growl. “Prince Charming, the love of my life, why are you making me think at a time like this?”

He snorted out a laugh. “Do you have any lube? I don’t want to hurt you.”

“I hate that I have to say this out loud, but I promise you that we don’t need it.”

He rolled his eyes. “Kitty. I want to do this right.”

She sighed, resigning to the fact that Mister Bug was doing it his way. Maybe if she could twist her hips… “Fine, _fine._ It’s in the second drawer next to you.”

He didn’t have to reach far with his long arm to get into it. His hands searched under the spare bedding she kept in the drawer, pulling out a small discrete bottle she’d purchased on the same day as the vibrator. He flicked the cap open, coated his fingers with the clear liquid, depositing the closed lube bottle easily on one of her pillows. All the while keeping an eye on her, on the way she twitched.

His eyes narrowed at her when she stopped squirming.

He knew she was planning something in her head. And _she_ knew that he knew. But did _he_ know that she knew that he knew? She didn’t know.

And besides, so _what_ if she was planning something? It would benefit the both of them. She was certain of it.

She hooked her ankles together behind him when he felt happy enough with the amount of lube on his fingers. She twisted her hips.

Mister Bug fell quickly on the mattress next to her as she swiveled them with a breathless huff, reaching for his dry wrist with ease, trapping the lubed one on his hipbone. It wouldn’t keep him from doing anything, he was just so _strong--_ she was just not strong _enough--_ oh she was so _damp--_ but she had the advantage of surprise, and she kept it.

His eyes widened as she took his lubed hand into her own, but quickly smirked when he curled his fingers into his palm, only letting her rock and grind herself into his closed fist. Oh. Oh oh oh. She was going to lose it. Absolutely lose her god damn mind from how horny she was.

His laughter came easy after a brief moment of watching her panting into a fist of her own. “Looks like someone’s desperate.”

“Please,” Marinette wanted to cry. Universe, _please._ She wasn’t asking for much, surely. Just one little tiny itty bitty orgasm that would make every single thought in her head disappear off the face of the earth. No big deal. “I’ll never make fun of you ever again if you finger me-- I promise, please please please. Please? Pretty please?”

“Hmmm.” He pouted in thought. 

She floundered, tossing about twenty billion-trillion arguments around in her head, wincing at how desperate she sounded. “I’ll watch Tokyo Mew Mew again with you-- no. _Wait._ Sailor Moon. All of it. Including the movies. Or maybe Mermaid Melody, also all of it. Is there a movie for it? All the movies included.”

“Take out the vibrator from behind the pillow.” He continued to tease the seam of her flesh with the back of his knuckles, moving slow, letting her shiver from how cold the lube was. If he could just…

If he could _just…!_

“What?”

“I’ll move my hand if you do it.”

“But-- I--”

There was nothing green left in his eyes. “Please?”

She huffed. Fine. Fine fine fine fine fine _fine._

She pulled the remaining bra off of her instead-- _ha, she’ll always find a way to change things up a bit! Checkmate, boyfriend!--_ slinging it over her shoulder to hit the back wall. It jostled a vine, and the leaves complained by swaying slowly, and she made sure to check behind her to make certain that the plant wouldn’t fall from it. 

Mister Bug’s eyes widened at the sight of her completely naked, of her still grinding harsh into his fist. She _would’ve_ felt embarrassed-- _would’ve_ felt self conscious about the fact that she was completely and totally _naked_ on top of her boyfriend, and he was completely and totally _staring_ but. But but but.

She couldn’t find herself caring, letting her hair part across her shoulders. She was a busy woman, and on a mission. And the mission was orgasming!

She let go of his fists. He didn’t move a centimeter, eyes still bugging. Ha!

She reached behind them, digging under the covers to locate the toy. She held the object gingerly in between her hands, swallowing tightly, looking down at him with expectant eyes.

It’s large in her hand-- but everything was, so it wasn’t much of a comparison. Even so, the vibrator had been marketed as a travel-sized companion when she’d come across it while shopping with Alya. 

It was smaller than regular size, matte baby pink, with three buttons on the side that she didn’t bother to use after fiddling with the settings the first time she’d used it. The sight of the vibrator made her salivate, as if she already didn’t have a lot going for her already.

The love of her life was in her _bed._ Centimeters away from fingering her the way she’s always wanted. She could cry. She could scream. She could thank the universe and heavens and-- yes, even Jesus himself, if she could-- and kiss him senseless. She could _also_ orgasm from it. Just saying, Universe. Any moment now.

“Do you want it?” She raised a brow.

He chuckled. “No. I want you to hold onto it.”

She pouted. “What? Why?”

“If your hands are busy, you won’t try clawing at my hair.”

She stammered hard enough to lose her breath, and gripped the vibrator in her two hands with enough force to turn her knuckles white. “I-- I don’t--”

He hummed appreciatively as she held it in her hands, boyish smile nearly wolfish on his face. “Good kitty. Keep it in your hands and I’ll make you come.”

She hated how confident he was in himself. That’s what she got for buttering him up for the past four years, making it known to him and the entire earth that she was enamoured by the man in the suit.

It wasn’t as if he was lying, anyway. The sight of him alone underneath her, matching the position that she’d put herself with the pillow, made her chest tight-- and it hard for her to breathe. 

It almost felt too natural to have her legs on either side of his hips, to look down at those wide green eyes. All that was missing was the earth-shattering orgasm, and it’d be as close to her experiences with the body pillow as it possibly could be.

Marinette to the universe! Marinette to the universe! Just how many neon signs did she need in order to make it happen? Did alarms and bells and whistles need to go off as well?

He uncurled his fingers underneath her. _Finally._

He started slow, pushing two fingers gently in, afraid that he’d tear her. Her walls bore down on him, tight and unrelenting-- and she bit her lip hard enough for it to bleed. His fingers were slender from years of piano, yes, but he was always bigger than her in every single sense of the word. 

She could feel the hexagon grooves again as he entered-- _wonderful, loving, hexagonal groves--_ and she bit back another gasp when a noise of wetness came out of her.

She gripped tight against the sheets on her bed as he twisted his fingers and curled upwards and in, and she sat down on his fingers hard enough to almost spear herself on his remaining knuckles. This was the most foreign thing she’d ever done in her life.

And yet. And _yet._

It felt _right_ to place her empty hand easy on his chest plate.

It felt _right_ to let him finger her in this position, with her canting her hips down, desperate and aching for the release he offered her. 

It felt _right_ to throw her head back and sigh, to rock down on his fingers without embarrassment or fear of how silly she looked, to mewl and whine as hexagon grooves created lovely textures going in and out of her.

She’d never be the same again.

If he wasn’t in his suit this would’ve been impossible, his fingers would’ve been crushed into his pelvis immediately from her weight, but here he was _unmoveable, there was no give,_ he wouldn’t budge a centimeter unless he wanted to, his stupidly-wonderful superhero suit made out of impenetrable hexleather made it so that he could easily lock any part of his body still and no amount of natural human force would get him to move. It made her gush wet with want, never realizing that this could be something they could do.

Her pillow would _never_ be enough after this.

He watched her with wide eyes as she worked against his curling fingers, using her hand on his chest plate as an anchor to stabilize herself on, tucking the vibrator close to her chest to keep herself from pulling at his hair in desperation. His other hand curled against her thigh where he rested it, and it traveled up the line of her waist, petting the underside of her breasts.

“Oh!” She visibly shuddered when his thumb uncurled from his fist and found her clit, rubbing hectic circles into the area. Her thighs locked tight at the sensation, and she flushed down to her toes, biting the back of her hand that held the vibrator to keep herself from sighing too loud. The pink toy flashed in her hazy eyesight, blending into her shoddy peripheral vision. 

Was he done pretending to be calm and slow for her? Uh oh.

“You’re so pretty, Marinette.” He pushed his hips up when she wouldn’t move any longer, and she gasped behind her hand. Oh. _Oh._ Dear _god._ Now she knew exactly what it felt and looked like to be fucking the hero of Paris. Holy sugar honey iced tea. _No,_ this was absolutely the time to curse. Holy jesus freaking _shit._ “Don’t cover your mouth, I want to hear you. You sound so pretty. The noises you’re making, kitty, I want to hear them forever.”

She could feel his pulse _inside her._ Was that normal? Was that okay? Was that allowed? She would absolutely have to ask Alya. Absolutely. Absolutely absolutely absolutely. “I-- don’t want to-- _oh--_ alarm anyone in the apartments--”

He chuckled. “No one will be able to hear you, I promise.”

“I-- I--” She shook her head. “I’ll be way too loud--”

“Hey, hey-- don’t bite your hand that hard-- you could hurt yourself.”

She could cry.

“G-give me your’s, then?” He gave it to her willingly, and he shuddered when she popped two of his fingers into her mouth to bite to the point it ached her jaw. He could feel her tongue lick his fingertips, she knew, and she flattened the side of her tongue to lick at him as she bit hard enough to make him bleed if he was out of the suit.

He hissed at the sensation of her soft tongue, and pushed harder into her using his hips, curling and uncurling his fingers and flicking his thumb. All she could do is sob at the stars that streaked across the back of her lids. She shivered hard when she felt her orgasm coming closer, the walls in her core tightening around his fingers.

“Good kitty. That’s it. Just let it happen.”

_“--Adrien--”_

He hushed her softly, slipping his fingers out of her mouth to pet at her jawline with such fondness that it made her chest tighten. “It’s okay. Go on.”

She forgot to _breathe._

He let go of her jaw to squeeze her at the hip to keep her exactly where he wanted her, and he was _ruthless_ with her as she came. She didn’t even have the energy to try to buck out of his grasp, stiff and still as he worked her as her walls squeezed against his fingers.

Her thighs locked again, tired, and her toes curled hard enough to hurt-- tears fell from her squinted eyes as she did her best to get up from the brutal grinding he gave her with his thumb. Hot flashes of white sparked behind her lids with every circular motion of his thumb on her.

Her walls clenched hard against his fingers, her body shivering, and all she could think of was how she wanted to feel this every single day for the rest of her life.

She would never _ever_ use that pillow case ever again. Pillow? Who’s that?

She slipped against him, tucking her sagged body under his chin, pushing the vibrator away and to the side. She whined pitifully when his fingers finally stopped and pulled out from her, making the most ridiculous squelching noise known to man and universe and earth alike. 

How _embarrassing._

If she had any ability to think she’d be blushing from the noise.

Not to mention how her body shivered and twitched almost painfully at the emptiness. She could tell that she was drooling against his shoulder, but she was too tired to care. 

She couldn’t feel her toes. Did she ever have any? She wouldn’t be able to tell.

Thank the universe. Marinette could die happy.

Mister Bug used his clean hand to pet her lovingly on her back as she melted onto him, kissing the top of her head with a short laugh. He nuzzled her hairline. “You’re purring.”

Her voice had splintered somewhere along the way. “Oh-- oh my-- god.”

“I never knew you could purr so realistically. It’s the cutest thing in the world, wow.”

“Oh my _god.”_

She could _feel_ the smile in his voice. “So, how’d I do as a replacement?”

She wished she had enough strength to sit up and glare at him. She glared at the far wall as her second option, trying to roll her eyes but failing halfway when his touches tickled her sides. “I can’t believe-- oh my god.”

“You sound a little hoarse there, kitty.”

She sighed into his neck. “You try being in my shoes, sunshine, see if you can handle it.”

“I just watched my girlfriend-- first, only, whatever you want to call yourself-- come all over my fingers for the first time in my life.” His laughter vibrated on his chest plate, tickling her fingertips that rested on it. She squeaked at the realization of his words. “And I’ve never been harder in my life, thanks. I’d _love_ to be in your shoes, kitty, _trust_ me.”

Oh, he didn’t have to tell her. She could feel him pulsing at the side of her thigh, the one that was still slung over his hips in a desperate attempt to mount him and ride until she couldn’t remember her name.

Marinette.

Nope, still not _quite_ there yet.

If she had the energy for it, she’d sit back and tease him with the sheer wetness of her sex, but it was hard for her to think straight when she could still feel her pulse in her aching walls about half a beat behind her heart.

Hot!

But she had the energy for him in her _mouth._ She was nothing if not the best at keeping her tongue occupied, _ha ha._ It came with the occupation-- the black cat miraculous holder was always a _chat-ty_ human-- and although she’d never tried something like that before, she wanted to. She wanted to so badly that she was starting to salivate at the idea of helping him out.

Something challenging and competitive started to form at the base of her stomach. She lifted herself onto weak forearms, looking down at him with a smirk that made the sweet boyish smile on his face suddenly disappear in surprise. “Okay. Detransform, then, pretty boy. Let’s see how you’ll do.”

**Author's Note:**

> Hi again! Glad to see you made it all the way down here!  
> Thank you so much for your comments, kudos, and hits. You're the best!!!!
> 
> Remember that I'll update this fic next week! I usually post during the weekend, so keep an eye out.
> 
> Wanna follow me on tumblr? Click [here!](https://fragileizy.tumblr.com)  
> Want to join the Miraculous discord server that I always talk about and link in my fanfictions? Click [here!](https://discord.gg/uzKvwFb)  
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> Love you Lots,  
> FragileIzy<3


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